When I walked into the Sabarmati Ashram, I could not contain my excitement. Tears rolled down my cheeks.  I could feel being transported back to the time when he was alive and so was sabarmati. Earlier, I could only read about the experiences in books  and listen to old men talk of their golden days when they were younger but I experienced them NOW.  What a privilege!!!

As I update this part, I remember the tranquility that shrouds the ashram. Peace is alive, despite the sometimes violent attacks of the howling winds, the scorching sun and pouring rain. 

This past weekend, my home was rocked by the sound of explosions. The wails of the kin, the blood of the dead and the tears of sorrow, the furtive scared eyes of the injured were all that occupied my mind.  This morning, as I read the newspapers, I could not contain the emotions that spontaneously expressed themselves. I was taken by surprise.  Lives disrupted.  Families destroyed. What is the motive of the perpetrators? Why cannot we, the people stop them?  I have been thinking ever since as to what I can do to stop them.

Where is the peace that bapu talked about? Where is the non-violence? I feel violated. Don’t you?

Has anyone of you had similar experiences?

 If so, join me.

If not, what is the secret of your indifference?

What is the secret of your strength, courage and resolve?

-ananth

I set off this evening, at about 5 pm, from the hostel, trudging along the sidewalk to the main gate.  I caught a bus to Gota. While I savoured the blistering heat, my scalp was not very happy. The recently exposed surface was wilting under the enormity of the heat.  I boarded another “AMTS” to Vadaj. When I enquired, I was instructed to alight  at Vadaj and the Ashram was at a walking distance from the bus stop.  Here is where the fun began.  At all times, the question that I posed  was  “How do I get to Sabarmati Ashram?” or “How do I get to Bapu’s Ashram?” I was so confidently posing these questions, as pride swelled inside of me that  I noticed not something that I had missed.

I was directed to board a bus bound for ChandKheda, and having been convinced of the Amdavadi’s accuracy, followed them to the T.  I got off at a place called  “Matora stadium”, and enquired for further directions. Hmmm.  3 km further!!!!

The sun was about to kiss the horizon and  my feet had begun to complain.  As I walked towards a certain “tower”, I asked a little boy, “where is the Bapu’s ashram?”. His reply was immediate…. “just a little further along the lane”, he said, pointing to one  exactly opposite to where I was standing.  Finally!!! I thought. I was to revisit a bygone era.

– to be continued–

you ignite my mind… Angel
the emotions,
Temper ed,
Enthtrall me… for ever

Why does it express itself so intensely, in the night, when all else but my mind has quietened down into a silent rhythm. I long for those moments, and those, that never existed, but in my mind. Why am I repreatedly reminded of  the rejection, of a possible future , entwined ?

I desire peace…..

I am almost… in tears…in fear of the night. and the accompanying agony.  How exactly do I process this past, vast, with experiences, of experiential learnings and loveless yearnings..for many many …two many , too many  moments.For Whom I wrote… ”For each moment that you have graciously bestowed upon me…i will return a lifetime or two.. ” hesitated not one moment in rejecting …my dreams of growing older… watching the sun go down, of treading on leaves that have changed color, in unison, of springtime in a future that is mine… have  …..for ever been trampled upon, erased.. not yet.. may be… in time. What life do I have , to live for? What  A life I have, to live for?

Is life meant to satisfy my wants… Do I have to die wanting… in satisfaction? If otherwise… Dear Life!!!.. Why..do I need to want anything, ever, at all???

Why does it feel at the end of the  lines.. that I am wanting .. not wanted.. yet? welll I shall wait until the ripples fade out into the distance…. so I cant see them anymore when everything is  all clear.

As midnight approaches, India readies herself to celebrate 60 years of freedom. When I begin to list the reasons that I would celeberate this occasion, I am still thinking. I meditated on it this evening as I went about the mundane essential activities.

Are we free?

WE are not FREE. Where is freedom? The  freedom that the Mahatma bestowed upon us, Ingrates, is LOST , its footprints in our His-story erased by the years that followed.   We are bound to untruths, And selfishness, We Enchained Our Selves to Ignorance, while hunger, poverty and injustice keep us faithful company.

“Must We need Security to celebrate FREEDOM in the heart of the nation , the CAPITAL???”

We have dug ourselves a deeper pit, much treacherous than in the olden (g)olden days.

That is what I have to  celeb-rate, Yes , cele- berate.

Freedom is  not not free. Neither are WE.

-A

   He was probably out and about, on his daily morning, er. night stroll, or perhaps looking for food, or he may be relaxing, after a long roach day.

      His presence was perceived to be a “serious” threat by my reptilian brain, And I immediately rose from my relaxed position and sprung up, darted out into the kitchen, to fetch a broom, the ultimate answer to his whiskerability , a much preferred weapon.

            It occurred to me, then, by a stroke of remnant intelligence, that I was perceiving presence to be a threat, even in the absence of threatening behaviour.

         As I introspected, I realised that my mind reacted without discrimination between men and beasts, well, roaches.  It dawned on me that  I reacted in the same manner even if the roach transformed magically into a friend I know or a beautiful princess of a woman. 

Having realised this behaviour time and again, I realised the threat perception as unnecessary and transformed it into acceptance.

     A transformation allowed me to accept  ACCEPTANCE.  It is the key to the problem.

There are roaches amongst us.

-A

Death is beautiful, elegant, classy, mysterious, happiness, sorrow,peace, love, hate, anger, jealousy, sacrifice,hunger, thirst,  The Absolute, Truth, finiteness, the Infinite, imagination, reality, change, growth, decay, a reflection of life itself.

Death is connected to life. It is the key to acceptance. One who accepts may accept life on all terms.  I recorded a few more sentences on death and it pervaded the soul of my DVR, the batteries.. LOL Talk of death and is shows up at your doorstep.

It is like a dream or perhaps an awakening from a dream, into imagined reality. Nobody has seen death but everybody claims to be a witness to its  appearance, certainly its presence.

                   Death is my  Valentine,  My Love, that waits for its time patiently, to embrace me ever so lightly, so tightly to shield me, so nobody  else can steal me. She is always around, like a good friend,  loyal and  honest, And you know it, feel it, experience it, hear it, in your heart beat, in the warmth of the flesh and the skin, the sound of your breath , that threatens to desert you at the slightest provocation, or  hold  you ransom, to its whims.

      In death, there is freedom, from all things that bind you to this world, no desires, no wants, no thoughts, no actions, or their consequences, nothing at all, not even the sound of silence.   Death is an uncertain certainty that no man has escaped till date and perhaps never could, not even in his dreams.   It  is fair and certainly unfair. It is whimsical, creeping silently under your feet.   Death is acceptance. There is no bias, none whatsoever.

Death accepts, men, women and children, the trees and the beasts.  All are welcome.  We can see death in a new light, beyond the dark description, fearful and borne of the ignorant.   Death is beautiful, for it is the work of Almighty God, as are we.   It keeps us waiting, and guessing, adding excitement to our lives, springing a surprise, pleasant, or unpleasant, as some choose to experience.  

Death is life too, and no spring would find lips singing and lines written about it, were it not for the autumn, which unfolds with the  Death of leaves and perhaps trees.  The leaves, ever so green, turn brown, and black, trampelled upon, decaying, changing, and enlivening those very trees that bore their burden, so that their children  will spring up after the cold winter has long deserted them.

As a loyal friend, it reminds us of our responsibilities, our actions, relations, emotions, of the importance of life that we take for granted so often.   Life is a temporary experience and so is Death.   There is no difference.   We rest in peace in Death,  letting go of disquiet in the realms of the living men.

Nobody bothers you and you dont seem to bother anybody.

You may find that it is a second chance, an opportunity to do things differently,  next time around. It is a time for introspection in life, of life, of your life and my life, our lives. It assimilates your life’s learnings and distills and compiles your experiences into something that others refer to, feed off, and desire to understand in  understandings of  themselves.

          Death is the first and last measure of a life(‘s)time.  Death is GOD and Devil.  Death is You and   Death,  it  is  I, an Enigma  of  Life. 

-A

This question popped up out of nowhere, well somewhere in my mind. There are moments of overwhelming emotion, which prompt such questions out of the blue.

Now, as I proceed to reason it out with myself in the confines of what I imagine is my own mind, I  wonder  if this  difference is real, then what is reality?

Reality is something that is not imagination. OK!. Then what is it? Reality is perception, isnt it?  If   it were to  be a perception,  it is an  imagination of the world in and around us, an attempt to   understand  our world built up on concepts, which are imagination.  Death in itself is a concept but death of a person as perceived  by a witness is reality supported by a concept.

Is reality therefore imagination directed and focused onto a specific region of the imagination space, itself composed of thoughts? Could reality be imagined to be common imagination to many sources?

So, reality is imagination and there may not be a real difference between the two.  Also, reality is beyond imagination and humans perceive reality through their imagination. 

 I am still confused as to the difference between real and imaginary. Is it that perception that is perhaps verified is reality and that which cannot be verified  is considered imagination. Well, is verification through reality or imagination?

So much for reality and imagination.

Perhaps, a person can safely  leave reality to their imagination.

-A

-A

A